The Final Funeral of Kenny McCormick
by ArtsySkat
Summary: This is it. This is the end. He's really gone. Oneshot. Style and Crenny side pairings.


**The Final Funeral of Kenny McCormick**

_**chapter track: Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars**_

It was strange to be back in South Park again, especially under such circumstances. Kyle and Stan were staying in the Broflovski house. Kyle understood why his spouse didn't really want to stay with his mom in his _own_ house. Shelley was home, and ever since Randy moved out, things were really tense.

They'd gone through college together, and grad school in Kyle's case, living in an apartment in Boston. Sure, they stayed in touch with Kenny, but they only visited on major holidays. Airplane flights are expensive. Last year they flew Kenny out to be Stan's best man at the wedding, but the family helped them out with that. Now they were twenty-seven, and sleeping together in the room that used to be Kyle's. It's sort of like they were just kids again, only kind of not at all.

Kyle pulled the quilt up to his ears, not for sake of warmth, but for comfort. He knew Stan wasn't asleep just like he was very much aware that he wasn't asleep himself. Stan snored like a damn bear. Still unable to get comfortable in this stupid bed that wasn't _his_, Kyle turned over so he faced Stan instead of the beige wall.

"I thought he'd… be _back_ by now," Kyle whispered, sighing.

Stan's eyebrows knitted together. "I don't think he _is_ coming back, Ky," he replied slowly, wrapping his leanly muscled arms around the redhead's waist.

Silence fell, heavy between them. The house creaking and groaning and the clock quietly ticking were the only sounds to be heard . There wasn't anything to say. You can't emotions like that into words. You can't say what can only be felt.

* * *

People filled the old Catholic church from wall to wall at his memorial service. This was a place that Kyle could only associate with sadness, because he'd only attended funerals here. If there were a casket, it would have been closed. From what Kyle gathered, the "body" was described as "unrecognizable". Amongst… other things.

As they walked together to find a pew, Kyle felt Stan's fingers entwine with his own. All around the room, he saw familiar faces, people he hadn't seen or heard from in almost ten years. Things would be easier if this were a reunion and not a funeral.

By the urn stood Carol McCormick, weeping quietly, hugging each guest as he or she approached. Stuart was nowhere to be found. Kyle grimaced. It figures that he couldn't be bothered to show up at his son's funeral. Craig Tucker sat up front, his body rigid and tense. His eyes were glazed over, almost stoic. Kyle remembered Kenny running around with Craig some in high school, but that look wasn't one of a grieving partner in crime. No, Craig more resembled what Kyle thought a woeful, jilted ex-lover would look like at the funeral.

Kyle nudged Stan. "I always thought it was Butters," he whispered.

A look of confusion played on the dark-haired man's face. "_What_ was Butters…?"

"You know…" Clearly Stan did not know. "Kenny's equivalent of a boyfriend?"

Stan nodded slowly, as though he took in the information bit by bit. "Oh," he said, "Um. I think, briefly, yes, but no. Did you not know about Craig?"

Kyle shook his head.

"They _lived_ together for like five years, dude."

Oh.

Kyle felt very out of the loop. How did Stan know, and he didn't? Guilt washed over him. Slowly, more people took their seats and the memorial began. The priest had grown old, but he talked of Kenny well, as he'd talk of any dead person whom he'd vaguely known. Kyle had to swallow back tears, because he knew that if Kenny wasn't… well, if he was _here_, he'd be making fun of Kyle for crying so much. He knew Stan was, too, by the way his grip on Kyle's hand tightened slightly ever few minutes.

The people clapped softly and politely as Craig stepped up to the podium and Father Maxi stepped down. Craig cleared his throat and rubbed his stubble-covered cheek, breathing slowly. He wore a black suit with a dark blue tie, and the collar covered some of his heavily tattooed neck.

The church fell completely silent aside from the stray sniffling every few seconds. Craig took one more breath before he began, and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. "Kenny was everything to me," he said, "and I'm not good with words, but, the _least _I can say about him is that he was _everything_ to me. He was there when everybody else left to start their lives in another state." Craig's voiced cracked a little. "And that's why he was so… important. That asshole was a gentleman and he really _cared_. I don't know how many of you knew him, I mean _really knew him_, or if you just knew him as 'That Kenny McCormick', but I really knew him. He wasn't a delinquent, or a vandal, or any of those other demeaning labels you people tried to say he was.

"H-he really cared about people, and he cared about everything that way. He could be selfish as hell on the petty stuff that didn't even matter, but with Kenny, you come _first_." At that, he stopped and walked back to his seat, wiping at his puffy, red eyes as nonchalantly as he could.

Everyone clapped again, and Kyle turned to look at Stan. Stan looked back, and he smiled weakly. He let go of Kyle's hand and strided over to the podium as the last speaker.

"I've known Kenny since pre-school," Stan started, not able to shake the present tense. "He's been my best friend for as long as I can remember. And, he- Kenny never let anything stop him. He had passion for life. He was the kind of person that everyone knew, and everyone wanted to know.

"He did stupid stuff all the time, but he was brave enough and hard-headed enough to actually do them. He did everything he did because of his passion for life. Kenny never liked to see people cry. So don't cry because he's gone. Smile because you knew him. Not many people have that privilege.

"He touched a lot of people in a lot of ways." Some light chuckles sounded from the crowd, and Stan smiled sadly at them, shaking his head just slightly. A genuine smile spread across Kyle's lips for the first time that day. Stan took in a breath and finished up his speech. "You know, I never thought that I would lose my best friend so early, but I also never thought that I would have someone like him to call my best friend, either." Stan looked down, wiping quickly at his eyes before he touched his fingers to his lips and raised his fist in the air. "Catch you on the flipside, brother," he said softly. He relaxed his hands by his side again, and walking back to the pew, he sat next to Kyle. Everyone in the church knew that Stan's final words weren't to them, but directly to Kenny.

* * *

Kyle and Stan specifically were given the task of sprinkling the ashes. Everyone drove out to the cliff the boys found when they were young, and Kyle had to say a few words as Stan sprinkled the ashes over the side. Not everyone from the funeral was here, because this was all according to Kenny's will. Kenny wrote his will when he was nineteen years old, and they all laughed at him for it. Who needs a will at nineteen? _Who needs a will at twenty-seven?_

Stan, Kyle, Ike, Craig, Ruby, Bebe, Karen, and the Broflovski, Marsh, and McCormick parents were present. The small crowd gathered around Stan and Kyle, who had taken off their suit coats and loosened their ties. The day that had been overcast was now sunny. Carol McCormick passed Stan the urn and Kyle prepared himself mentally for what he was going to say. He would say what he planned on saying, and then he would read Kenny's letter after the ashes were sprinkled.

Stan looked over at Kyle with sparkling blue eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Kyle nodded. "On this unfortunate day, we're gathered here to say our goodbyes to Kenny McCormick. I'm beyond mournful about thi-" Kyle stopped mid-word. "Screw the formalities," he whispered. "I wish like hell that none of us were standing here right now, and I really wish that I could be sitting in a coffee shop cracking jokes with Kenny about my stupid snobby adult life, but that's not why we're here. We're here because something really shitty happened. Whenever you feel sad, think about what Kenny would say or do to make you forget how much this or whatever it totally sucks. Because Kenny's not gone, because he is, in the absolute cheesiest way, a part of all of us. _Gone, but not forgotten_," Kyle finished as the ashes of Kenny McCormick floated down to bottom of the ravine.

Stan handed the urn with the remaining ashes back to Carol, and stood straight and tall by Kyle's side. Kyle pulled the carefully folded note from his pocket, and cleared his throat. "I'm going to read this letter from Kenny to conclude." He paused for just a moment, and smirked at what he saw on the page.

"Now that Kyle is done being a huge nerd carefully 'articulating' his final goodbyes to my sorry ass, I've got something to say about all of this. Then again, maybe Kyle said what he meant this time, instead of speaking like a Harvard professor. I'm sorry, first of all. But trust me, it's a hell of a lot better where I am now than where I was. The only really shitty thing about all of this is that I had to go alone.

"Stan, Kyle, thanks for being my best friends. I didn't _really_ feel like a third wheel, because let's face it, you guys are like a big gay combo. You can't have just one of you, you two come in a package. I couldn't have asked for more in my life. Without you, I'd probably be in an alley somewhere. Thanks. Your wedding actually was beautiful, even though it _was_ gay as hell, I mean, you two are gay as hell. The reception killed, man. Name one of your," Kyle blushed as he read, "butt babies after me.

"Ike. I still have a fuckin' bone to pick with you, man. You better be good to my sister, you sassy little shit. Thanks for helping me get my GED.

"Karen. You know I love you, and take care of yourself, because that Canadian Jew certainly won't. Kidding. Maybe. I can't protect you anymore, but you're a grown woman now. I think you've got it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski & Mr. and Mrs. Marsh. Thanks for always being the parents I needed when I needed them.

"Bebe. You were more than that to me, and you know what I mean.

"Tucker, don't think I forgot about you. You know you mean a hell of a lot to me, and you know you probably saved my life more times than I could count. You know all of this, I don't need to tell you from _beyond the grave_. Haha, how fuckin' spooky is that? Boo, I'm behind you. Just kidding, I'm actually not, ghosts are fuckin' stupid," Kyle mentally facepalmed as he read, and he saw Stan pinch the bridge of his nose more than once. "Craig, I love the hell out of you and your dumb guinea pig obsession (seriously the apartment reeks of rodent) but I tolerate you because you're better than I could be, ya miserable sack of dung.

"I'm so sorry that I'm gone, and that this nerd has to read my words, because obviously Kyle has no talent at being me, because Kyle cannot make light of anything like I can. I'm freaking _dead _right now, and I know that somebody on this cliff is timidly suppressing laughter because they feel it's inappropriate. So _laugh_. Life your lives, guys. Don't you forget about me, but don't waste your life, because that's more disrespectful to me than spitting on my hypothetical grave would be. Peace the fuck out, _Kenny McCormick_. I love you all." Kyle finished reading and smiled as another rogue tear escaped his eyes again. He tucked away the note into his pocket, and looked around.

Everybody had a weird smile on their face that was somewhere on the spectrum of sadness and happiness. Craig was a mess. His cheeks were stained with streaky tears, and his jaw was tense as he tried to control his emotions. The sun started to go down, and everybody hugged and went on their way. Stan and Kyle stayed back.

"You know what doesn't make sense?" Stan asked, his legs dangling off of the edge where he sat by Kyle on the ground.

"What?" Kyle replied, staring off into the horizon.

"The coroner said the cause of death was suicide. I just don't think Kenny would've…" Stain trailed off.

"Me either. I don't know how he went, but I know that wasn't it."

* * *

_**Three days prior**_

_Kenny stood on the roof of the apartment, his aggressor looking at him meanly in the eye. "I fucking told you McCormick! I'm not fucking around, give me your cash!" Kenny grinned, stepping closer. _

"_What are you gonna do, shoot me?" his veins pumped with adrenaline as he spoke._

"_What do you mean? Of course that's what I'm gonna do!" the brute yelled, waving the pistol in the blond's face._

_Kenny laughed darkly, stepping closer still. "Then fucking do it, you pussy. Shoot me!" He yelled._

_ "I told you I was gonna fuck up your family if you didn't give me the shit, McCormick! You __**owe**__ me!" the dealer wrapped his index finger around the trigger, a bead of sweat dripping down his bald head._

_ His cocky grin spreading, Kenny stepped as close as possible, pressing his forehead to the pistol. "Shoot," he said calmly with an air of mischief in his tone, "and end me. End it all. I'll pay the debt with my life." He raised an eyebrow coyly, as though he was three steps ahead in a game of chess._

_ The dealer pulled the hammer back, and just before he pulled the trigger, Kenny felt a cold chill run down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. He didn't know this time, like he always knew, if he would be back to win the game like always won._

* * *

**A/N: thank you for reading! 3 I would appreciate some reviews so I can better my writing. xoxo -Skat**


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